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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204061">Ab Imo Pectore</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0/pseuds/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0'>anywh3r3y0uwant2g0</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ineffable Husbands One Shots [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff without Plot, I'm Bad At Summaries, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Love Confessions, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Short &amp; Sweet, Short One Shot, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), this whole thing is just cuddly and soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:21:56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>677</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29204061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0/pseuds/anywh3r3y0uwant2g0</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley wakes up covered in a soft tartan blanket after falling asleep on the bookshop sofa. He goes to find his angel.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Ineffable Husbands One Shots [13]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1784653</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ab Imo Pectore</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is basically self-indulgent softness XD</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Soho, London. Two months after Armageddidn’t.</p>
<p>Auburn eyelashes fluttered. </p>
<p>A pair of yellow eyes blinked their way open slowly. </p>
<p>It took a moment for him to gain his bearings. </p>
<p>He was <em>not</em> in his flat. It was much too bright in here. He hissed slightly at the intense light. </p>
<p>At least it was warm. He felt something soft on him, and focused his eyes to see that it was a tartan patterned blanket. He groaned slightly at the fuzzy monstrosity before snuggling deeper into it. It smelled nice. Like books and cocoa and a little bit of musk. It smelled like Aziraphale. </p>
<p>This must be the bookshop. He had fallen asleep on the sofa at the bookshop. That made sense. They did get pretty drunk last night. But then… where was the angel? (And… did he put this blanket on Crowley?)</p>
<p>Crowley sat up sleepily. His hair was ruffled in a way that might be described as adorable, if he wasn’t a fearsome demon, that is. His slit-pupiled golden eyes were half lidded as they lazily scanned around the bookshop. They stopped when they found what they were searching for; a man with puffs of cloud-like hair resting above his face that was smiling as brilliantly as the sun as he gazed at a page of a very worn book through tiny reading glasses he didn’t need. The sight made warmth spread all throughout Crowley’s body, staring at his core. His sleepiness made him forget to hide the dopey smile that was spread wide across his face. </p>
<p>He clumsily got up from the couch, the blanket still partially wrapped around him as he strode over to the angel. </p>
<p>When Aziraphale looked up from his book and saw Crowley, his beaming smile brightened <em>even further</em> if that was possible. (It, in fact, was.) The sight of the angel made Crowley feel all wobbly inside. </p>
<p>“Good morning, my dear,” Aziraphale said, his smile still dazzling Crowley. </p>
<p>The demon felt his face heating up with an intensity, probably as red as a cardinal bird’s feather, but edging dangerously near pomegranate coloured. He shuffled over to the angel and lifted one of his arms to make a clear pathway for himself. Aziraphale looked up at him questioningly, but did nothing to stop his advancements. Crowley raised one leg and swung it over Aziraphale, proceeding to plop down onto his lap and fully wrap himself around the warm angel. </p>
<p>He heard a breathy laugh escape his angel’s lips and held onto him even tighter. A hand gently fluttered to caress his back, a kiss found its way to where his slightly unbuttoned shirt had slipped off his shoulder. He shivered under these tender touches and buried his face deeper into his love, his constant, his Aziraphale, inhaling his wonderfully comforting scent. </p>
<p>Aziraphale picked up the blanket that was trailing on the ground and wrapped it firmly around the demon before he began to lightly stroke curling patterns up and down his back as he returned to reading with a smaller, but significantly happier smile occupying his face.</p>
<p>After about thirty minutes of this, when Aziraphale assumed Crowley had fallen back asleep, he whispered a confession against the soft, warm skin of the demon’s shoulder. “Te amo, mi cara,” Aziraphale startled when he heard a snort. </p>
<p>Crowley sat up to look at his pale, sky blue eyes, his own amber ones sparkling with mirth. “Was that <em>Latin,</em> angel?”</p>
<p>“Ah...” Aziraphale glanced to the side, bringing his hands that had been behind Crowley around to fidget in between their torsos. </p>
<p>Crowley caught the angel’s jittery hands in his own and gently separated them to bring one up to meet his lips. He kept his eyes on Aziraphale’s face the whole time, relishing in the fact that the angel looked like he was going to melt into a giant puddle of fluttering heartbeats and dilated pupils at any given second. Crowley grinned and gently cupped his chin in his hand to encourage him to meet his eyes. “I love you too, Aziraphale. Ab imo pectore.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ab imo pectore literally translates to "from the deepest chest" but its meaning is more like "from the bottom of my heart" or "with deepest affection." </p>
<p>I hope you liked reading this as much as I liked writing it!! If you want to leave a comment or kudos I will greatly appreciate it &lt;3 Thank you for reading!!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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